If Wishes Were Horses
I’m surprising myself today by participating in the Adoption Post Carnival over at Grown in My Heart. However, the topic is a good one – what do you wish you’d known about adoption before you stumbled blindly into it? Here’s my contribution.
I looked at a picture of myself and a picture of my daughter the other day and it struck me, again, how very much she looks like me. Our features are amazingly similar, though she is tall and has the long legs I always wanted. Ordinarily, I try very hard not to make my daughter into “mini-me” because she is uniquely herself, not a copy of me. Still, just like I look at photographs and see that we have the same smile and the same nose and the same eyes, I know that she is more like me emotionally and spiritually than not.
It sounds trite, foolish and inadequate, but when I relinquished my daughter it was me, and to some extent my family, that I found unworthy, not her. I wanted her to be happy in a way that I was not happy, had never been happy. I also had (now, obviously bizarre) daydreams where she, secure in her perfect family’s love, would be a perfectly adored princess. She would never feel awkward or have her feelings hurt by being the excluded odd kid. Her parents would be perfect too, with just the right mixture of firmness and devotion, never trampling on her feelings yet making sure she studied hard and didn’t break curfew and ate all her vegetables. She would have everything, be the star of her life, be protected and cherished and utterly, perfectly happy. And perfect. Did I mention perfect? Her new family would instill that perfection. Obviously. Because I was so broken and empty and worthless that her life with me could only mean abject misery. I was saving her.
Except my daughter was not some lump of clay, to be formed and molded into a new self by her adoptive family. She was already hard-wired for much of her personality. She did not become athletic and outgoing and “popular” and she is not a cheerleader or class president or whatever the hell I thought seemed like the perfect life for her to have. She is artistic and intense, she feels too much, she is sensitive and complex and she is going through some of the exact same shitty growing pains I did, in such an eerily similar way that it is often surreal.
Her parents, too, are not saints, but mere mortals after all. I say this with no malice, because they are good and decent people. It’s just that like all of us, they have flaws and blind spots, prejudices and bad days. They make mistakes. My daughter’s family is trying hard, but they don’t always know what to do with her. I’m not saying I would handle things perfectly or even any better than they can either, but I am quite possibly the person best equipped to understand what she’s going through, yet adoption has changed the dynamic we might have had irrevocably.
If I had parented her, I wouldn’t hesitate to jump in and offer my advice, my take on things, or my experiences, regardless of whether it elicited eye-rolling, scoffing, slamming doors, stony silence, screaming, or any combination therein. But adoption removed that right from me. It silenced my voice, hanging here on the fringe of her life, unsure of my place.
I don’t want to intrude, but I sense she needs me. I hesitantly offer myself as a sounding board via her parents, because, after all, she is their child and I feel uncomfortable circumventing them even though she will be 17 next month. I am greeted with gentle discouragement, and it stings even though it was not unkindly meant. I don’t know if she would even welcome my opinion or if she feels the weight of adoption there, too. Perhaps she is feeling angry, at last, angry that I did this to her. She has every right to be angry with me. I cannot fix it. I gave away so many of my rights to her, and hers to me, in a shabby office with my signature on those papers. I have lately wondered what my place is in her life. How much love do I have the right to? How much does she need me in her life? What is too little and what is too much?
Open adoption is not a band-aid. It is an ever-present reminder of what I did, and though it provides comforts that never knowing anything does not, it didn’t create perfection, for her, for me, for her parents, for my son…for any of us.
I am not saying I’m perfect either. I have no doubts about the effects of nuture. I have no doubt of her parents’ love. We will find our way, somehow, riddled with bumps in the road but hopefully, eventually coming together again. And again. And again. Adoption and its impact doesn’t end with that signature on TPR. Or that ceremony at court. Or at age 18. Or if you get visits and photos and phone calls.
I wish someone had told me that adoption never ends.
I wish someone had told me that the “perfect” mother for my daughter was me, if only I would look within and find the strength.
Wearing my adoptee hat, I want to say that I hope someday she reads this. Now, in a few months, in a few years……. but I hope she does, because I know it would mean a lot to her. It means a lot to *me* and you’re not even my birthmom (um, and that would be weird, now wouldn’t it?). My birthmom has never said anything remotely like this to me in any way. Being conceived in a nonconsensual manner as I was, I can understand why she wouldn’t feel this way. But it would be nice to hear something like this.
Wearing my adoptive mom hat, I just want to say that I feel the pressure to *be* the perfect parent, to have the perfect family, and I feel guilt at times when I am being less than perfect. Kiddo didn’t brush her teeth before bed because she was melting down so I just let her skip it? Horrible guilt. She didn’t take her vitamin or eat a single morsel of anything construing a vegetable all
) So, for whatever bizarre daydreams you had of her being in the perfect family, know that odds are good her parents may well have similar feelings to my own as an adoptive parent. Not that it makes any of it any better, mind you, I know…
dayweekend? Tremendous guilt. She watched an hour of television that wasn’t educational programming from PBS? Oh, the guilt. I raise my voice at her or lose my patience or dislike her behavior when she’s pulling an attitude? Guilt, guilt, guilt. (Sadly, I discover anew how imperfect a parent and person I am on a daily basis….) I feel like I’m letting Kiddo’s birthparents down in those guilty moments, and that just adds to the general feeling like a failure thing that I think all parents feel. (We do, right? Or is it just the astoundingly imperfect me?(((Hugs))) as always to you, my dear friend.
Heather, you always amaze me with your wonderful support. Thanks.
Listen, I think the whole pressure to be perfect parents thing is unfair, unwise, and unrealistic. Similar to you, I felt huge pressure once Badger was born to be a perfect mom. It’s like I had thrown away my first chance, now I had to REALLY excel. And, of course, I yell, I make mistakes, I struggle. I have to work continually to get past that and remind myself what I do well as a mom, and a first mom. So I totally get what you’re saying.
Oh Coco, I love this. I hope your daughter reads this someday too.
Thanks, Addie. Your opinion means a lot to me.
I hope someday I can show her everything.
I hope she reads it too…it is so honest.
Thanks, Pickel.
I wish I had the courage to just tell her all of these things. But I am rather cowardly, I’m sorry to say.
“Adoption never ends.” You are so right. I do sincerely hope your daughter reads this at some point. I’m glad you linked today, and I look forward to reading more….
Thanks, Michelle.
That is what is so frustrating when many people talk about adoption. No matter how well we do in our everyday lives, adoption colors everything that comes after it. It not only affects me; it has affected my husband (not in a bad way, but it affects him). It affected my mother and father. Most of all it affects my son and daughter, forever separated even though we have an open situation. For example, my son sees his babysitter (the college-age daughter of a family friend) more than his own sister. That is not the way I want things; in fact, it breaks my heart, but it is the reality of a complex family situation.
So many people almost never consider these types of aftershocks when discussing adoption.
Thank you so much for this post, Coco. And I think one of the most important lessons I learned these past few years, as a new adoptive parent, is that adoption NEVER ends. You are so right in this. I see this truth in my five-year-old daughter. I see this truth in myself.
I also know that one of my largest challenges in the coming years will be to parent a child that is so completely different from me. Accepting her just as she is, while still guiding her as a parent should, this is something I shall strive to do.
I hope your daughter reads this one day – it brought tears to my eyes.
Tonggu, I think your daughter has a wonderful mother and ally as she grows. Thank you for reading.
Geez.. Coco.. making me cry:
“but I am quite possibly the person best equipped to understand what she’s going through, yet adoption has changed the dynamic we might have had irrevocably.”
And I think that you are indeed perfect.. just being Coco
Who’s making who cry now, Claud?
Thank you.
Oh, if only we could be perfect parents to our children, any of us. Thanks for all of your honest words (always). I haven’t heard you often speak of your relationship with your daughter, specifically. I hope she knows, now or someday,of the tremendous value you are in her life. smooches!
M2R – you are a good friend. Thank you.
Oh boy. Ouch. Brokenhearted for her and you and everything that is the misery of teenagehood. There really is no perfect solution. For anyone. It’s tough to be a parent raising a child and I can only imagine that it’s even tougher to be a mother watching someone else raise their child (perfect or not). Thank you for sharing.
I appreciate your chiming in, Shawna. Even those of us who are not immediately affected by adoption can play a huge part in changing the thinking of our society. Your support means a lot to me.
Beautiful post. It was truly touching.
My husband was adopted and recently met his birth mom and all his half-siblings. He still feels awkward, not knowing where he should do or say, not knowing if she wanted to know him. All I can speak from was as a mother, I would have. So I think I’m going to have to have him read this. So thank you.
Adoption is often a difficult road even in a much-desired reunion. I hope things feel more at ease as time goes on for your husband and family.
I know for myself, I love my daughter very much and I will ALWAYS want to have as much of her as I can.
Wow, that’s very, very powerful. I am sure, that your daughter knows you love her. There is not perfect road for any kind of parenting, adoption or otherwise. The fact that you take responsbility for your actions and for your feelings is honestly more than many people would. That’s very admirable in my book.
I hope she knows, Moonspun. I hope she believes it.
If only we moms (adoptive, first moms, natural moms, bio moms, whatever the label, just moms) could stop being so damn hard on ourselves. FWIW, I think Heather has nailed it, and I’m not surprised given her perspective.
Beautiful post, Coco and I too, hope your daughter reads it one day.
It would be nice if we weren’t also handed the giant bowl of crap that society at large dumps on mothers, wouldn’t it? Like if you stay home with your kids you’re not really working and if you work you’re letting someone else raise your kids and no matter what you have to be perfectly groomed and encouraging and know algebra and knit sweaters made of fairy hair and volunteer for every class trip to the pencil factory or YOU FAIL AT LIFE and YOUR KIDS ARE DOOMED.
I’m glad I found this post and your blog. You give me access into the mind of the birth mother. So often I study my little one and wonder how much of her personality is from our nurture and how much is from her genetic nature. She is perfect for us, a perfect complement to our family, but she has traits and skills that certainly would not have come from me or my husband’s blood line. I’m always searching for the right things to say to my girl when (and she hasn’t yet) asks: “Why did my birth mother think someone else should raise me?”
I’ll always wonder about this woman I probably will never know. Does she think of her girl? Does she regret her choice? Did she have no choice and therefore is she broken hearted?
This has to be one of the hardest questions ever.
No fair making the stupid, feetless headachey lady cry. I’m sorry, Coco. Your sorrow shows and I wish I had anything good to offer you here.
Your support means so much more than you’ll ever know, Becks.
Yeah, my cold and allergies seem to be making my eyes water
Great post, Coco, and I hope she does read it.
That really was a great post, Coco. I hope she does read it someday too.
I recently found out my uncle had another, much older son, and its an interesting dynamic. Both the fact that his mother never included him in our family and that his father doesn’t really want to know him (or is scared). Now that he’s 30, its much harder to figure out how to actually include him.